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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25622251">Where There's Smoke</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pebble/pseuds/Pebble'>Pebble</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst and Fluff and Smut, BUT magical contraception is used, Consensual Sex, F/M, Nondescript Lavellan, Penis In Vagina Sex, Shameless Smut, Solas being Broody, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Fingering, there's a plot hinted at in the background but I won't be writing that any time soon, will I ever elaborate on the hinted plot? if I get my main fic to Halamshiral ;D</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:08:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,618</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25622251</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pebble/pseuds/Pebble</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p><i>There's fire.</i><br/>Perhaps Lavellan should know better than to feel safe, merely because she can't see the flames.<br/>-<br/>In which Solas lectures Lavellan while they BOINK and I toned down the kinkiness because it's my first time posting (but not writing) smut on Ao3. I wrote this back in... November(?) and only brought it out from it's buried file to edit it, because the lovely people on the Solavellan DA discord server encouraged me! This is for them ;D</p><p>[Don't worry, I'm still writing my main DA:I fic!]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Female Inquisitor/Solas (Dragon Age), Female Lavellan/Solas, Fen'Harel | Solas/Female Lavellan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Where There's Smoke</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>here ya go I'm tired of rereading it lol</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sitting on the edge of her polished desk, the elven Inquisitor slips off her boots and socks one at a time. Her leggings are next to go, exposing the thick, almost reflective lines of scars both new and old permanently affixed to her skin. She lays the woolen pair over the crook of her left arm and bends down to pick up her boots, worn leather things that Josephine was begging her to buff- or replace entirely. As she shakes out the sore muscles in her legs, Lavellan wanders off to place her boots beside her wardrobe. The soft rugs in her chambers keep most of the winter chill from stunning her bare feet, and in her comfortable security she takes her time crossing her bedroom floor. Along the way to her bed, she lazily drops her socks and leggings in the basket meant for her dirty clothes.</p><p>Having spent her entire day in the library researching High Dragons (and their potential weaknesses) for insurance of future encounters, Lavellan feels a weight of justified exhaustion upon her back and she’s aching for a chance to relax. How her fellow mages can stand huddling themselves over books everyday is simply beyond her; she enjoys her reading, her own personal research, but the materials she’s found within Skyhold are ridiculously boring, lacking, and <i>contradictory</i> on their subject matter. Unsurprisingly, not many scholars are eager to get close enough to giant, hostile beasts of the land and skies to compile a lot of definitive information. At the height of her productivity, she’d uncovered a lot of half-baked theories and biased arguments at best.</p><p>Now Lavellan’s mind is weary, flooded with outdated facts regarding the physical anatomy of a near-extinct creature, and she knows (or at least could recite) what all the colours and the specific angles of their <i>sodding spiked scales</i> mean. </p><p>“Supposedly mean,” she reminds herself aloud, sighing and brushing her fingers through the tangles in her hair. Tomorrow, before she takes a page from favourite Vint’s book, she’s going to implore her Antivan Ambassador that she be allowed to recruit the odd ‘Draconologist’ in the Western Approach. Surely they have enough coin to give him a salary?</p><p>It isn’t laziness that drives her desire for someone else to take up the task, Lavellan simply knows that there are people better suited (and more enthusiastic) for the task. Someone with more patience and expertise could make far more sense of their collection, and free her up to spend more time on her actual, Inquisitorial duties. A few in her trusted Inner Circle had volunteered to take up the task already, but Madame de Fer also requested two weeks away to visit Duke Bastien, Solas has his own critical studies, and Dorian has less patience than her for even <i>mildly</i> trite literature.</p><p>The effervescent necromancer certainly made a responsible display of where he believes a portion of Skyhold's books belong upon his first discovery of the old fortress’ library. To this day he remains wholly unrepentant in his treatment of tomes regarding his homeland, and in that manner, she can relate to how he feels. On his part, there was a rotted pile of Tevinter-based books outside the tower; hers, one Dalish ‘history’ book now ashes in her fireplace. </p><p>It was rather entertaining to watch Dorian toss hefty tomes over his shoulder and out the window, but he’s proved his grace in equal measure. Not half an hour ago, when he caught her eying the stairs more than the pages of her books, he politely suggested she retire early, while none-too-subtly pulling her chair back from the table.</p><p>
  <i>“Really my dear,” he drawled, a measure of concern mingling with his amused tone. “You won’t find any pleasure in straining your eyes another hour.”</i>
</p><p>A bit reluctantly, Lavellan heeded his advice and returned to her bedroom and its grand décor to strip down and take a bath. Half of her clothes removed, she finally trails over to her bed and unfastens the laces of her blouse, tugging the white cotton article over her head and tossing it onto her distant fainting couch. </p><p>As she stretches out the tense muscles in her neck, her sharp ears catch the faint sound of footsteps moving up through the corridor outside her quarters, and smiles quite happily. <i>No one</i> but one elven mage has quite a stride so confident, graceful, and light. It amuses her fondly that even since they met, Solas really hasn’t gotten any better at being the humble traveler he claims to be. She has no evidence of what his history could truly be, nor does she wish to pry, but there’s obviously more to him than meets the eye.</p><p>Solas knocks lightly, in a familiar rhythm, and she hums loudly enough that he takes her invitation as intended. Boldness is not what guides her decision to welcome him (rather than tell him to wait), but it is comfort. Lavellan is not ashamed that she grew up in the wilderness with her Clan, where they often bathed in groups for safety, in case beasts or strangers stumbled upon them in the rivers. Most of her Inner Circle knows now that their Inquisitor values security and trust above privacy and risk.<br/>
Life had taught her well what happens when one goes off, all on their own.</p><p>Lavellan hears the wooden door creak open and her enervate musing comes to a halt. She remains standing beside her bed, facing away from the stone-brick stairs that remain the only reasonable means of entry to her quarters. Without much thought she continues disrobing, unfastening the soft breastband around her chest; it too, is flung aside without care. </p><p>Finding her clad in only her smalls, her lover has the grace to clear his throat, announcing his presence as if she <i>hadn’t</i> intentionally invited him into her chambers. She spies his reflection on the tall windows ahead of her, and watches as he stays utterly still for a moment, his gaze upon her naked back. </p><p>Lavellan calls warmly to him without turning around, “Hello, Solas. I’m just getting ready to take a bath.” Her voice brings him outside the realm of his thoughts, and she listens for his response while stretching out the knots developing in her shoulders. Never mind that she hasn’t started to run water yet, he long ago taught her tricks with runes to warm things; clothes, food, water. She’s certain it will be just right ⎯</p><p>“Your door, it wasn’t locked,” he eventually replies, and his statement is correct, so she doesn’t deny that. </p><p>It’s not what she expected him to say though, and she answers him curiously, <i>“Yes?”</i></p><p>Meanwhile, her thumbs slip into the waistband of her smalls, beginning to push the fabric down off her hips. She used to sleep in her underthings as well as a nightshirt, but ever since she and him became intimate, the little article just seemed to be a… <i>nuisance</i> to wear in the evening. When Lavellan suddenly bends over to slip off her smalls completely, he clears his throat <i>again</i>, and the little piece of cloth falls to her ankles.</p><p>Solas approaches her from behind, and his steps are loud in the quiet of her bedroom, echoing along the high ceiling and the angled walls so that the noise surrounds her. When the noise ceases, she finally looks over her shoulder to see her lover directly, finding him in his usual loose, practical clothing, but with a frown on his face and his beautiful eyes narrowed with disapproval.</p><p>“What is it?” Lavellan asks him, some worry immediately bubbling in her chest. </p><p>“Your door was not locked while you were <i>undressing</i>,” he elaborates. Relieved then there’s no emergency calling for her attention, Lavellan waves him off before taking a half-step around him to her bathroom. </p><p>“I’ve got to start-” </p><p>He cuts her off, swiftly.</p><p><i>“Anyone</i> could have come along, perhaps someone with ill intent.” Solas’ voice is firm, his ‘warning’ tone for when she’s toeing the line of unfamiliar danger. He’s aware of how she grew up rather sheltered, though not totally naïve, so this scolding is light— for now. “You shouldn’t be careless,” he insists, delicately placing a hand on her lower back to keep her near.</p><p>Lavellan smiles, always touched by his concern, but this occasion she feels the need to remind him of her above-average perception, “I would’ve heard them, Solas. My door is also <i>guarded</i>.” Those guards long-ago stopped bothering to inform her of his arrival, more concerned with strangers than who she chose to let into her bed.</p><p>Forgetting her goal and focusing on the warmth of his hand on her bare skin, she affectionately places her own marked hand on his cheek, “I could hear <i>you</i> coming.” This doesn’t seem to comfort him, as he wraps his arms around her smaller frame without a word, and suddenly, nothing exists to her but him and this room. She’s well and truly naked, and he’s embracing her and now she couldn’t name a single fact about dragons if her life depended on it.</p><p>Solas speaks closely to her sensitive ear, “And if I were some fiend here to corner you in your chambers?” The timbre of his voice makes her whole body quiver, and she stares back over her shoulder as his serious question causes her middle to tighten with excitement. His blue eyes already look darker than usual, and as she bites her lip she sees his pupils dilate further, threatening to eclipse his irises entirely. </p><p>“Ah…” Lavellan tries to think of an <i>appropriate</i> reaction to his query, “I’ll escape. O-<i>Of course</i>.” His dark brows arc up, and he takes a half-step back from her, schooling his body-language into a decorous front. </p><p>Solas’ embrace loosens, and he bows his head to catch her eyes with his own, “Demonstrate.”</p><p>In a short moment, she pulls herself out of his entrancing gaze and pushes his arms off her nude body, making haste to get away from her lover. With her superior agility, Lavellan expects to receive a head start and crawls onto her bed, planning to give Solas an obstacle and have him work to chase. He follows, already leaning over her slighter form, and she feels an electric spark in her spine when he laughs deep in his throat. </p><p><i>‘I haven’t made any space between us⎯!’</i> Lavellan flees with a burning sense of pride, her hands grabbing at bedsheets to pull herself away from the man above her, a light gasp of laughter and fear filling her lungs when his hands grip her ankles. He pulls her insistently back to the edge of the bed, till her legs drape over the side and her rear is pressing flush to his hips.</p><p>“Not quick enough, <i>vhenan</i>,” Solas warns, and with ease, he traps her. He spreads her legs apart with one knee, pursuing his reckless apprentice until he has her back against his chest once more. </p><p>Lavellan isn’t sure <i>when</i> or <i>how</i> he lost his clothes, but he must have. His length rubs between the cheeks of her ass, and she feels a strong arm laid beneath her abdomen, his hand settling between her warm thighs. Suddenly his fingers are spreading the glistening lips of her core and she whimpers in need, nodding vigorous consent for his unspoken question and pushing herself up to her elbows while his lips trail across her shoulderblade. </p><p>“You’re-” Two of his long digits spear inside her, and her mind goes blank. He’s merciless.</p><p>“What am I?” He taunts her, so proud and pleased to have cornered his <i>prey</i>, and that’s what she is in this moment. It’s equal parts thrilling and terrifying, and it’s exactly what Lavellan wants, as he’s helped her learn. His teeth nip at the stark lines of ink on her shoulder, and he draws a loud gasp from her lips when he rubs a soft, sensitive place inside her.</p><p>Lavellan valiantly tries to ignore the sweet curl of his fingers to reply to him, “You’re <i>not</i> a fiend, you- you’re my <i>Solas</i>.” Something about her words, or perhaps the breathless way she whispers them, only emboldens his actions. Her desperation, her trust encourages this game he now plays with her.</p><p>“Are you certain that I belong to you,” he traces up the vallaslin on her spine with his thumb, knowing it sets her nerves alight. “And it is not yourself that is <i>mine?”</i> When he asks the question, he withdraws his hand from her core and leans over her pliant, trembling body. His arm moves beneath her, turning the limb around and ghosting across her chest until he can reach her mouth. He touches wet fingers to her lips, and obediently she opens up to clean him with her tongue. </p><p>It’s <i>maddening</i> that she can’t see him like this; as if by magic her windows frosted over since he gave chase and they no longer reflect the interior. Her elbows barely keep her up, and her toes press into the stone bricks of her floor until the chill numbs her strain. She can’t reply to him, busily licking at his fingers until he’s pleased, but he makes it clear he isn’t forgetting their one-sided conversation.</p><p>“Perhaps I should remind you, <i>da’asha</i>, that there are those who would ravage you in moments of weakness.” His fingers leave her mouth, and he makes a point of pinching one of her nipples with the slick digits as he removes himself from caging her. She feels unbearably cold at the loss of his body, but not for long. </p><p>Solas stands upright, but before her thighs can squeeze themselves together with a need for stimulation, he grabs her hips and pulls her with ease⎯ as though she weighs nothing at all. She’s dragged off her elbows and she’s left with no option but to brace herself with her feet on the floor, but she hardly has a second to right herself fully. She can’t hide a yelp from a small measure of alarm when she feels something hot press against her dripping center.</p><p>“S-Solas,” Lavellan is ready to plead for relief, profoundly needing this intimacy, for a safe chance to be <i>completely</i> vulnerable. Desperate words fall from her tongue, and she knows she would do most anything he requested for proof that he wants and adores her as she does him. She whimpers hopelessly while he goes on speaking as if she were babbling nothing at all, the apostate fully intending to teach his <i>vhenan</i> a lesson for being so reckless with her safety. </p><p><i>“I am among them,”</i> Solas sinks into her smoothly and relishes the mewl that escapes his lover, the elven woman almost going slack, but shivering from shocks of pleasure in her body. His lips curl upwards in satisfaction, and with one hand he holds her hip firm until she’s taken every inch of his cock inside her heat. She turns her head to let herself breathe, arms too weak to support herself again, and he places his other hand at the base of her skull.</p><p>Lavellan can almost see him now, as his fingers curl in her soft locks and her head is pressed to the mattress. Her cheek squishes against the plush comforter her nails dig into, threatening to tear the threads apart when the elvhen man steps back and nearly leaves her completely. Only the head of his cock remains inside her, and her submission wanes as she struggles against his hold, seeking to pull him back into her velvet passage. He sees tears gather in her eyes, pupils blown to completely swallow the lovely colour of her irises, and tightens his hold on her hair until he has her attention. She displays admirable focus, looking up at him with obvious lust, a brave and powerful woman so helpless and at his mercy. </p><p>“Your life is always in danger,” he says, and she can’t possibly fathom how he’s so composed. <i>‘Hahren’</i> or no, he’s so damnably collected⎯ if he were clothed he could simply be leaning over his desk, pondering some artefact. </p><p>He sees the moment she’s distracted, and a thrust of his hips snaps her back into the moment. As she cries out, Solas narrows his eyes, finally beginning to show his frustration. There’s no reflection of the mess she’s become on him, but all the same he’s utterly consumed by her being. Everything draws him into her. The sight of her <i>undressing</i> with her back to him, so exposed and vulnerable, had ignited the darkened timbers left in the shadows of his godly self. He was overcome with the vision of littering her naked form with marks, or seeing her clothed in the intricate robes of an Arlathane bride.</p><p>Lavellan can’t divine the depths of how she filled his thoughts, guarded and reserved as he is. Solas buries his infatuation with his vexation, reprimanding his lover as he withdraws and then slides back inside her, “You cannot disregard your own safety.”</p><p><i>“Oh Gods,”</i> she moans, stretching her calves to arch herself towards him. He’s deep in her core, and the stretch is so good she doesn’t care if he makes her walk funny for it later. Fuzzily, she remembers how it feels to have his barrier wash over her, always there when danger arises, without fail. With a breathless voice, she swallows thickly and speaks words that stir that embers in his heart, “You’ll protect me though, won’t you?”</p><p>A flame burns up and the shadowed forest is razed, he finally begins fucking her in earnest. He releases her neck to grab both her wrists, pulling back her arms until he’s pinning her hands to her lower back. With a wordless enchantment, Solas binds them there and grips her hips with both hands, using her position on the bed to rock her body as well as his own. She’s practically limp but openly vocal, letting out beautiful, broken cries of pleasure.</p><p>He leans over and the jawbone trinket he never removes from his person rests on her back, which sparkles with pearls of sweat from the dimming light outside her windows⎯ the frost melted and dew dripping luridly down the glass. His lips brush one of her pointed ears and she whimpers at the vibrations of his voice, a promise laid in the heat of passion. <i>“Always.”</i></p><p>They don’t stop to rest until he’s spilled inside her twice, a whispered enchantment protecting her from carrying his child with the falsities that lie between them. He strokes her hair as she curls up against his chest, her heart still fluttering and her skin still flushed with shades of red, but so pleasantly relaxed she’s already dipping into the Fade. Solas feels when she falls asleep, her breaths evening out and the ring he placed upon her hand glowing softly, tangible now. He takes her left hand in his, gently moving his thumb over the knuckle, below the arcane symbol of another promise he made to her.</p><p>There are many quiet moments such as this that he looks inside himself with shame. What kind of selfish man is he, insisting upon their first kiss that he wouldn’t dare claim her with secrets between them, when he’s done so in <i>many</i> ways now. He hypocritically chastises her for her impulsive nature, when <i>he</i> knowingly stole her affections away from the Commander of her forces. He’d foolishly believed himself a changed man from his youth, no longer jealous, proud, or ruled by his emotions, and seeing her grow close with Rutherford had proved him sorely wrong. </p><p>Solas went to her in the Fade as the Dread Wolf once, merely with the intention to observe the mortal scarred by his orb, and he found a weak young dreamer listening to the stories of spirits. She was surprisingly unafraid despite her superstitions, and asked with a brave fortitude if <i>Fen’Harel</i> wished to join her. He’d laid silently nearby as the night passed, and left before she woke by the dawn. </p><p>Now Solas still visits her, and cannot fabricate any objective excuse for it. Part of him is clearly too heedless of what danger there is in visiting a Dalish Inquisitor as the ‘god’ she was taught to fear, incautiously risking the security of his far-off plans to test the waters between them. Even as he loves her more each day, with an all-consuming depth, he’s slowly gathering the resolve to tear his own heart out, as he would before he’d ever dare to entangle her in his future.</p><p>Solas holds Lavellan tightly, mindful of the fresh marks on her skin, and knows that he withholds himself because of a mounting fear that he will lose her sooner than he wishes if he reveals his true identity. On the occasions that he stays away from her in the Fade, he’s prickled by reminders of how he wrongs her. Old demons of Guilt and Loathing taunt him from the edges of his mind, sometimes accusing him of betraying her in two forms. She cares for him as no one else has so earnestly, yes, but that only doubles the weight of his deception. </p><p>He should have kept their distance after kissing her, but oh, it was such a tell of what was to come. He may very well be the most selfish man alive, wanting all of her love for as long as he can have it, all while planning the swiftest and kindest manner to shatter what they have. Even he knows that the kindness of it is not for her, but himself— unquestionably, the kindest act he could have made was never to set foot in her circle.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thoughts? I just wanted this out of the way at last lol, but I hope it was good!<br/>For the hinted background stuff (a ring, a promise, hinted almost Cullen/Lavellan) just know that it has a reason but I won't be free to write about that for a loooooong time.</p><p>-Pebble</p></blockquote></div></div>
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